


sleepless in _____

by sassy_ninja



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Developing Friendships, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Is Gay, Feel-good, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutant Powers, Mutual Pining, No Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary Character, Requited Unrequited Love, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_ninja/pseuds/sassy_ninja
Summary: Courfeyrac is just a completely normal university student, he drinks too much, shits on capitalism, falls devastatingly in love with his friends and just happens to have a side gig as Spiderman. Everything is going as well as he thinks it could be until one day he sees Enjolras smoking on a rooftop. The previously mentioned falling devastatingly in love with his friend occurs... this is NOT how he thought his first year at university would go.
Relationships: Courfeyrac/Enjolras (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this was actually written in like April when I actually had motivation to write..... hopefully by actually posting it I'll get the motivation to finish it so..... wish me luck! I'll probably be updating this once every week? maybe twice? bc I have the next few chapters already written out so..... we will see how much uni starts kicking my ass!
> 
> also not super relevant to the plot but it's important to me so in this fic Courfeyrac is malay, Enjolras is chinese, Combeferre is senegalese and non-binary!
> 
> title is from epik high's last album!

Courfeyrac did not ask to be Spiderman, no he did absolutely no such thing. He’s just in his first year of university after all, all he’s ever asked for is a week’s extension on a few of his assignments, some free alcohol from his favourite bartender and maybe a kiss or two and what does he get instead? He gets to have the shit kicked out of him by some old lady who thought he was trying to steal her bike when all he was trying to do was give back her purse.

He slumps down onto the rooftop with a small groan and rubs his face over his mask – goddamnit her shoes were so fucking pointy. Everything hurts and everything sucks and he has an assignment due tomorrow that he sure as hell isn’t going to finish in time and Combeferre is going to look at him in that disappointed way that makes him squirm on the spot.

The worst thing is that he doesn’t have any excuses, at least not ones that he can tell them. What is he supposed to say? ‘Oh sorry I was actually trying to stop a bank robbery yesterday and the day before I stopped a break in and two muggings so I was a little busy’. He groans again and buries his face in his knees when there’s a small polite cough that makes him jump to his feet with a small shriek.

“Are you okay?” the guy asks from where he’s leaning against the chimney, the guy who is Enjolras, aka Combeferre’s very hot very cool roommate that Courfeyrac has been trying to make friends with for the last three months. Fuck.

“Me? Yeah, yeah of course,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting on his feet, “I was just uh – I was looking for some crime to uh – stop, yeah. Crime to stop, you know – rooftops are a good place to see – you know, crime…” he trails off and Enjolras nods with a small smile, stubbing out his cigarette onto the concrete. “You smoke?” he blurts out and Enjolras looks at him, confused and a little alarmed and Courfeyrac realises that of course he looks confused, he has no idea that it’s Courfeyrac here talking to him. He thinks it’s fucking Spiderman, which it is, but Spiderman is also Courfeyrac which he supposes is the confusing part.

“It’s a bad habit,” he says a little defensively, “but I’m trying to quit, my roommate is a med student and they’re always telling me about how bad it is for me, but I uh,” he smiles slightly again, “I have an assignment due tomorrow and I haven’t finished it yet, I’m a little stressed.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac just blinks for a moment, looking at the laptop balanced on Enjolras’ knees and trying to process everything that’s happening. Enjolras who has always seemed perfect in his radicalism and his cool demeanour and who never drank or smoked and handed in all of his assignments on time and got above a 16 on everything, “can I mooch a cigarette?”

Now it’s his turn to stare at him a little in disbelief and Courfeyrac's to shrug defensively. “Who am I to judge?” Enjolras says, laughing a little, flicking a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it for him. Courfeyrac scoots across the rooftop to take it, tugging up his mask to show his mouth and he grins when Enjolras passes it over.

“Even superheroes have bad habits,” he sighs after he breathes out, smoke leaving the Parisian skyline hazy for a moment, “and this goddamn suit doesn’t have any pockets, would be useful, but it would ruin the lines.”

Enjolras laughs at that, tilting his head back and Courfeyrac grins at him again, taking another inhale.

“I guess it’s easy to forget you’re just some normal guy underneath the suit, tough day?” he says after a while when Courfeyrac stubs the cigarette out and tugs the mask back over his mouth.

“Yeah, you could say that. I have an assignment due tomorrow and I just had an old lady kick the shit out of me for trying to get her purse back and I don’t know if my best friend’s roommate likes me or not and honestly it’s getting to me more than it should,” he shakes his head, it’s easy to talk like this somehow, when Enjolras doesn’t know it’s him, when he thinks he’s just some superhero, just some stranger.

“That’s tough,” Enjolras says, no judgement in his voice, “what you’re doing is pretty cool though, all this superhero stuff.”

“You think so?” he hunches over again and pulls a face that no one can see under his mask, “sometimes it just feels like I’m wasting my time, I mean what am I actually doing?”

“You’re helping people,” Enjolras replies, simply as if it’s the obvious answer, “you’re helping people with things that the police don’t care about, helping _people_ that the police don’t care about. That’s important for them isn’t it? There’s a lot of people that have been forgotten about for a long time, who feel like the system doesn’t care about them and often it doesn’t – you’re someone who does care, who cares enough to do something. That’s rare enough these days anyways. Sure, it’s not systemic change, but it’s not nothing either, is it?”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac blinks at him, “yeah I guess you’re right. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he shrugs and Courfeyrac springs back to his feet again, somehow more energy in his veins again. That’s always the funny thing about Enjolras, he always seems to make you feel like you can actually make a difference, there’s just something about the way he speaks that Courfeyrac can’t quite put his finger on.

“Well I gotta go uh – make a difference, stop crime,” he smiles, stretching out his arms, “you know, all that stuff. Bye uh–” he manages to stop himself before ‘Enjolras’ slips out.

“I’m Enjolras,” he offers before Courfeyrac manages to look like a complete idiot, “good luck, Spiderman.”

Courfeyrac gives a cheeky little salute as he steps off the building and he just hears a cut off curse as he does it, laughing as he swings away, catching just a glimpse of Enjolras standing up to watch him go. He waves and he gets a small wave in response.

* * *

He manages to finish his assignment and he submits it a whole five minutes before it’s due. It’s a goddamn miracle, but he’s so tired he also sleeps through his entire first lecture. He’d just meant to close his eyes for a second but the next time he opens them the lecture hall is empty and Enjolras is standing over him.

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to stuff all of his things into his bag before the next class files in, “thanks for waking me up – I stayed up all night doing the essay.”

“No problem,” Enjolras says simply, waiting for him by the door. Courfeyrac bites his lip to stop himself from blurting something stupid like ‘why was it so easy for us to talk yesterday, but it’s so awkward now?’.

“You want a cigarette?” he offers when they make it out of the building, shaking the pack at him when he puts his own in his mouth.

Enjolras just gives him that unreadable look again. “You know I don’t smoke,” he says quietly as they walk together, they have half an hour before their next class and it’s always that weird not quite enough time to do anything kind of time.

“It’s polite to offer though,” he says peaceably and Enjolras gives him another weird look because to be fair he’s never offered before, “anyways, I’m dying for a coffee, you want one?”

It’s only a little less awkward than before, Courfeyrac finds himself talking endlessly to fill up the space and Enjolras replies in monosyllables and nods. It’s just a _little_ bit frustrating. It’s not like Courfeyrac hasn’t had people who don’t like him before, god no – when you’re the only Asian kid in a little town in Provence you get used to people not liking you. He can just never quite pin down what Enjolras thinks of him and _that_ he’s definitely not used to. He’s always been proud of himself for being very perceptive of people and this – well it makes him huff with frustration.

Enjolras looks at him confused when he stops in the middle of his story, but Courfeyrac just laughs and drains the rest of his espresso. “C’mon we’ll be late to our lecture,” he grins, picking up his bag from the ground and swinging it over his shoulder. He blows a kiss at Feuilly, his favourite waiter turned begrudging friend, who gives him a middle finger in reply.

It’s even more boring than their morning lecture, but he manages to stay awake through most of it and even takes some notes, though to be fair they’re not very good. Bossuet turns up, albeit half an hour late and somehow manages to give himself a papercut on his own notebook. Bahorel though, predictably isn’t there.

“You coming to dinner at the Musain?” Courfeyrac asks Bossuet when they leave, lighting his cigarette for him before he manages to burn himself on his shitty lighter.

“If Jolllly is going to be there you know I’m not far behind,” he grins, pulling his knitted beanie over his bald head, handknitted by Joly himself.

“Oh, we know you two are disgustingly domestic. You make us singletons jealous,” Courfeyrac says as he pretends to swoon dramatically against him.

“Ah, we all know you won’t be single for long,” Bossuet laughs, slapping him on the back, “give it a few weeks once this cluster of assignments are over, you’ll be back in the game soon enough.”

“Fuck off, I’m not that bad,” he elbows him jokingly and Bossuet manages to almost stumble straight off the pavement and onto the road if Enjolras hadn’t managed to catch him by the coat.

“Oh, all the gay men of Paris know exactly how _bad_ you can be,” Bossuet laughs and Courfeyrac shrieks in protest, lunging at him and the two of them tussle in the street, Enjolras standing and watching silently.

“I’ll see the two of you this evening,” he says when they finally stop, nodding at them before he leaves and Courfeyrac slumps against the wall frustrated.

“Do you think he likes me?” he sighs and Bossuet laughs, big and booming.

“You’re joking right?” he manages to splutter out after way too long, “oh come on Courfeyrac, you have to be kidding right?”

“No, I just–” he frowns down at his shoes, “I just can’t get a read on him sometimes, it’s frustrating. It feels like – you know what never mind. I’ve got another essay due next week, wanna head to library?”

They drop the conversation, but Courfeyrac can’t stop thinking about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac 'accidentally' sees Enjolras again. Today he learns that communication is key to a healthy relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something short and light this time! I'm procrastinating again so..... enjoy some courfeyrac being a dumbass for a bit more than 1000 words!

Two weeks later he somehow manages to find himself back on the same rooftop, it’s not on purpose, but maybe it is just a little bit... He’s had a hard week alright? Just a run of Bossuet level luck that means he somehow managed to get chased around by that goddamn police prefect, Javert, again _and_ he lost his housekeys after a night out meaning that he had to turn up at Combeferre’s door at 5am, still drunk and feeling very sorry for himself.

He shouldn’t come back here, especially shouldn’t talk to Enjolras, not with the luck he’s been having, he’d probably get figured out and then accidentally throw them both off the roof. Or someone will probably spot them and kidnap Enjolras to try and pry Courfeyrac’s identity out of him, or lure him into a big trap or something equally as ridiculous that he would’ve instantly dismissed earlier, but really he thinks that anything could happen now.

He rubs his temples as he sits down on the roof with a quiet groan and gets a small laugh in return, “you’re back,” Enjolras says, still sitting cross-legged in his original position, “tough day again?”

“You know the police prefect, Javert?” he says and he knows already that Enjolras does, doesn’t need to turn around to see the face he makes at his name, “there’s this kid – must be like ten or eleven who keeps on hanging around tourist areas and pickpocketing. I just make him give the stuff back, he’s a kid, he doesn’t deserve some kind of record for this, but Javert is such a hardass he tried to arrest me today for helping him get away.”

Enjolras snorts and Courfeyrac can’t help but tilt his head back and grin at him.

“The guy’s an asshole,” Enjolras says, rolling his eyes, “thinks the law is holy and untouchable, never thinks about how the law might just be unjust. Anyways, you want one?” he shakes the cigarette box at him just like Courfeyrac had done before.

“My friend is always on my ass about trying to cut down, but if you don’t tell anyone,” Courfeyrac grumbles half-heartedly, rolling over so he’s lying on his belly. Enjolras mimes zipping his mouth shut and Courfeyrac grins again, scooching up to take the cigarette out of his hand. He leans in to light it, suddenly very aware of how close they are. He makes a tactical retreat before he can say something stupid.

“What about you then?” he asks after a little while, watching Enjolras smoke quietly and scribble things down on his notebook, “probably not too good considering the fact you’ve made your way through half that pack there.”

Enjolras laughs again, tilting his head back and Courfeyrac can’t stop himself from admiring the long line of his neck. He’s glad all of sudden that the mask hides most of his facial expressions.

“Just a lot of work due,” he sighs, “and there’s – well this is kind of weird to tell a complete stranger, but my friend is acting weird lately. Almost like he’s avoiding me or something.”

“Oh – oh really?” Courfeyrac stiffens, thinking about who it could possibly be, “have you tried talking to them about it?”

“That’s–” he snorts, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s embarrassed, “no – that’s probably the first thing I should’ve done, huh.”

“Well I’m always here to help, your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman,” he grins, rolling onto his back again and sitting up.

“Yeah,” Enjolras looks at him with that weird intensity again. It makes Courfeyrac shiver.

He opens his mouth to say something, possibly something stupid (definitely), but before he manages to there’s a loud crashing sound and the wailing of some sort of alarm. He jumps to his feet, “I should probably go and uh – you know,” he shrugs, vaguely.

“Stop crime?” Enjolras says, just a touch of teasing in his smile, “good luck, Spiderman. See you – see you around?”

“Yeah – yeah, see you – Enjolras,” Courfeyrac gives him a little wave and he skips off the roof, hearing Enjolras’ gasp as he goes. He can’t stop smiling inside his mask and he gets so distracted that he almost smashes straight into the side of a building.

* * *

The next day he’s trailing out of his lecture, it’s only four, but he’s so tired he feels like he might just keel over and fall asleep on the pavement. He’s broke as well, which isn’t unusual, but at the very least all this Spiderman business has meant that he doesn’t need to pay to go the gym anymore. It’s the small things he supposes.

“Courfeyrac, you look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Enjolras’ voice cuts through the crowd and he pastes on a smile to greet him.

“I am,” he yawns after he kisses him on each cheek, shuffling about in his bag to look for a cigarette before he realises that he’s run out and groans out loud, “I need a coffee and a cigarette.”

“You know you should try quitting one of these days,” he says offhand and Courfeyrac laughs.

“We can’t all be as perfect as you, Enjolras,” he says, all the more teasing because he knows better and Enjolras just makes one of those unreadable faces at him.

“Go buy your cigarettes, I’ll buy you a coffee afterwards.”

Courfeyrac grins, throwing an arm over his shoulder and regretting it instantly when Enjolras tenses underneath him. “Ah you spoil me, Enjolras,” he says, trying to play it off casually, but Enjolras grabs his hand before he can retract it and easily guides them around a gaggle of tourists taking photos.

“You seem stressed lately,” Enjolras says with a small frown as they walk into the corner shop, “we haven’t known each other for that long but – well just know that I’m here if you want to talk about things.”

It leaves Courfeyrac standing there with his mouth hanging open slightly in shock as Enjolras walks easily to where the cigarettes are. He supposes that it should make sense, Enjolras is more perceptive than people think and definitely kinder. Maybe he has been distant lately, but really this whole Spiderman thing is just getting to his head, all the secrets and running off at random times, it feels like he’s back in the closet all over again.

“What brand do you want?” Enjolras asks, brow furrowed and Courfeyrac grabs the one that Enjolras always has as opposed to his usual.

“A friend told me these were good,” he blurts out and Enjolras just blinks at him for a moment, “and thank you, for the offer to talk I think that would be – it would be good, I think.”

Enjolras buys them for him even when Courfeyrac tries (albeit not very hard) to pay and he smiles all the way to the Musain. They sit outside together, absorbing the first of the spring sunshine. Courfeyrac takes a moment to watch Enjolras, the way he tucks his bag under the table and smiles kindly at the waitress and squints his eyes slightly in the light. His roots are growing out, Courfeyrac notices and he wonders for a moment why he dyed his hair blond in the first place.

“So, what’s been going on?” Enjolras asks, taking a small sip of his coffee, black. He never adds anything to it and Courfeyrac can’t help but pull a face at the thought as he empties a second pack of sugar into his espresso. It makes the bottom even more syrupy and a little gritty and Feuilly despairs of him endlessly. It’s funny though, that he’s enough of a coffee snob to still always order an espresso, but not enough of one to drink it black. He thinks it adds character.

“Oh, a lot,” he tries to keep his tone light but Enjolras just raises a single eyebrow at him and he shrugs again, “you know I grew up in Provence, just a little town, it was practically a village really. Everyone knew everyone, I never really left that often. I’d go to Nice once in a while, you know for a night out.”

Enjolras just nods, sipping his coffee and something about the quiet way he stares at Courfeyrac makes him almost itch. Like he needs to be doing something, moving somewhere. He taps his feet against the ground just so he’s not sitting completely still.

“Paris is just very – it’s different. I don’t like being seen as some provincial country boy, but it’s just–” he shrugs, eyes skirting across the street, watching the people walk by, “–there’s a lot of things that I’m not used to, I guess. Even when I go back to visit that’s it, I’m just visiting, I feel like I can’t stay anymore, like that isn’t my home but neither is Paris.”

He doesn’t mention the guilt he feels every time he leaves, the way he feels like he’s leaving Paris to fend for itself without Spiderman even though he knows very logically that the city was fine before him and it would definitely cope for a weekend.

“It’s tiring, I don’t know. I don’t like uncertainty,” he smiles weakly and Enjolras nods, brow creased slightly in thought.

“I felt the same when I first came to Paris,” Enjolras says after a while, “or what I imagine to be a similar feeling. I was just a sixteen-year-old from the Haute-Loire coming to Paris for the first time and then going back all of a sudden, I was that kid who was sent off to Paris. It’s weird, I guess it’s not exactly better now but well,” he smiles slightly, “I’m more used to it, I guess. Ultimately, we all choose our own homes, our own families, but it doesn’t make things any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Courfeyrac smiles back, this time he means it, “but it helps to know you’re not alone.”

“It does,” Enjolras has finished his coffee Courfeyrac has realised and is just patiently waiting for him. He sits back, content, for the first time in a while. There’s nothing he has to do this afternoon apart from his normal patrols as Spiderman, he can afford to take his time for a little while. Enjolras will wait for him after all and he smiles, big and honest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac's bad luck continues and he's actually such a terrible liar but the triumvirate is finally together! Cuddles ensue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something a little longer this time and now w some platonic cuddles, courfeyrac trying harder to not recognise his feelings and just a little bit of complaining abt universities very poorly attempting 'decolonisation' that may or may not have come from my own personal frustrations at my uni but oop! hopefully u guys enjoy and if u do a comment + a kudo would be great :D

He takes it back, he takes everything back, Paris is a horrible place and he hates it and his Bossuet level luck has not worn off in the slightest. In fact, Bossuet found a whole euro on the street the other day, he’s probably given all of his bad luck to Courfeyrac who’s going to go bald any day now.

Firstly, it started raining, but Courfeyrac has found that rain is very different here in Paris than it is in Provence. For one thing it drizzles endlessly for hours on end and it soaks through his suit until he’s shivering and cold to his bones. Nothing like the big spring downpours he’s used to, the ones where you can just duck inside for an hour at most and wait it out. It’s miserable, _he’s_ miserable _and_ cold _and_ wet and just generally not in a very good mood.

Secondly, (or maybe more importantly) he got punched in the face. Okay so he’s used to getting punched by now, punched, kicked, slapped, having things thrown at him, it’s basically local superhero 101, but in all his three months he hadn’t been punched in the face _yet_.

It wasn’t even something cool either, just a bunch of kids who were bored after school and decided today was a good day to pick on the old man who ran the corner shop near Courfeyrac’s flat. He’d dropped in, ready to act scary and they’d probably run but _no_ apparently one of them had to punch him, in the _face_.

Oh, and the cherry on top of the wet, miserable cake? Courfeyrac sneaks upstairs in his wet clothes, trying to make sure none of his neighbours see the delightful black eye he’s now sporting and opens his door only for water to start pouring out over his already wet shoes. He wants to scream, he wants to scream very, very loudly, but instead of doing that he checks his phone to show that his landlord had in fact texted him telling him saying a pipe had burst in the flat above his and they would get it fixed by the end of the week and they’d cut the power to his flat just in case. He leans his head against the doorframe and just stands there for a moment, willing himself not to absolutely lose his shit.

“Courfeyrac what the fuck happened?” is the first thing Combeferre says to him when they pull open the door. He could have gone to his less judgemental friend’s places to crash, but Combeferre’s sofa is the least lumpy _and_ it’s almost big enough for him to lie down comfortably. He’s had a lot of experience in that aspect.

“I’m not having a very good day,” he says in a very small voice, “I’ve been out in the rain and my flat’s flooded and would you believe me if I said I walked into a shelf?”

“A very fist shaped shelf, yes,” Combeferre shakes their head with a smile, but they already have an arm around Courfeyrac’s shoulders and is pulling him into the apartment.

He gets given a dry change of clothes and sat down on the sofa with a towel over his hair (which will look absolutely a horrendous frizzy mess tomorrow Courfeyrac remembers with a quiet groan). Combeferre even makes him a cup of hot chocolate to drink while he holds a bag of frozen vegetables over his face like he’s a very small child.

He feels like one right now, he wants to have his mum and his older sister coddle him like they used to do when he got sick, but the closest thing he had to that now is Combeferre who he demands to receive cuddles from. Combeferre obliges even though they call him a ‘little Napoleon’ for being so demanding and that sets Courfeyrac off, spitting about how Napoleon was a terrible dictator and it’s an insult to compare anyone to him and really Combeferre should know not to attack him like that when he’s already having such a hard day.

It’s this strange little scene that Enjolras walks into, shaking off his umbrella with a quiet ‘I’m home’ and he stops and stares for just a moment. It’s very funny actually in retrospect, Courfeyrac curled up in a blanket with his head in Combeferre’s lap, ranting about the horrors of the French Empire whilst being petted by a very amused looking Combeferre.

“Courfeyrac got flooded out of his flat,” Combeferre explains, the rest Enjolras deduces with a quiet ‘ah’ as he toes off his shoes and heads further inside.

Courfeyrac huffs in response. It’s a little weird how the two of them talk to each other half in gestures and looks, one of them will start a thought and before they can finish the other already understands. He’s only a little bit jealous of how easy it is between them, just how much they can understand about each other without anything else being said.

“Dinner?” Enjolras asks, pointing at the kitchen and Combeferre eases themselves up. Courfeyrac picks himself up, miserable at having to stop being petted and Enjolras hesitates for a moment before he sits in Combeferre’s spot and pats his thigh in clear invitation for Courfeyrac to lay down again. He does so just a little nervously and they both stiffen, but then he pets Courfeyrac’s hair until he relaxes slightly. When Enjolras starts scratching his fingers across his scalp like he’s a cat he almost starts purring.

It’s a sleepy abstract thought that sketches its way across his mind that it can be pretty easy with Enjolras as well, when Courfeyrac isn’t overthinking things at least. Enjolras is observant when he needs to be and more understanding than people give him credit for. He can just be harsh sometimes, but he always means well. People just don’t like overlooking the rhetoric and cold glares he gives when he talks politics, which in Enjolras’ case is almost always.

Courfeyrac squints up at him. Sometimes it can be hard to figure out when he’s joking or not, but he always gives one of those tiny smiles though, the ones that are basically just a quirk of his lip. He decides that Enjolras is only scary when you don’t know him well enough, which to be fair is quite hard to do, but here Courfeyrac is, lying in his lap and having him play with his hair. He smiles to himself, big and wide.

“What’re you thinking about?” Enjolras asks, teasing smile on and he tugs a little at Courfeyrac’s hair. His eyes flutter closed for a moment and he hopes Enjolras doesn’t carry on like that because maybe he likes having his hair pulled a little _too_ much for just a friendly cuddle session.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, tumbling off the sofa and away from Enjolras’ way too nice hands before he does something really embarrassing like pop a boner or moan or something ridiculous like that, “ah, Combeferre what’s for dinner? You want any help?”

“It’s just some leftover mafe from yesterday,” they shrug, “you can sit down whilst Enjolras cleans up the table.”

“I can help,” he complains.

Combeferre just points their spatula at him threateningly, “I didn’t ask you any questions about how you got your black eye so you can go sit down on the sofa whilst Enjolras cleans up, ok?” He very meekly slinks back and Enjolras laughs at him quietly as he sulks.

Their apartment is small, just two rooms that attach onto a living room/kitchen/dining room/whatever the hell it wants to be room. It’s not too bad for two students in Paris, the heating works, and the water pressure isn’t bad. It’s just a little too messy for Courfeyrac’s taste and he holds back the urge to tidy up as he watches Enjolras neatly pile all the textbooks they had on the table onto the ground.

The three of them end up sitting around the coffee table, Courfeyrac and Combeferre perched on the sofa with Enjolras sitting on the ground opposite them. Out of the three of them only Courfeyrac can cook, but he can also recognise Combeferre’s aunt’s cooking anywhere. It’s delicious and she never gives him her recipes no matter how he wheedles and whines.

“Did you see the news about Spiderman today?” Enjolras asks offhand, “Javert’s put out an arrest warrant for him apparently.”

Courfeyrac tries his best not to freeze, only choking a little bit when he tries to swallow his mouthful of rice. “Really? I didn’t hear about that,” he manages to say, only sounding a little bit strangled.

“Hmm, it’s probably for the best though,” Combeferre frowns, “it’s dangerous letting one person have control over justice just because they happen to have powers, it’s vigilante justice.”

“But he’s doing the right thing,” Courfeyrac tries to keep his tone neutral but judging by the curious look he gets from Enjolras he fails, “I mean, he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s kinda cool, like we’ve got our own little superhero here in Paris, just like all the Americans do.”

“Well just because it’s cool doesn’t mean it’s right, although I don’t think they should arrest him for it,” Combeferre says thoughtfully.

“No,” Courfeyrac frowns, trying not to freak out because what does that mean for him? Would he get arrested? Would they tell everyone who he really is?

“I like Spiderman,” Enjolras says casually, breaking the silence again.

“Really?” Combeferre says at the same time as Courfeyrac says “what?”

“Is it that surprising?” Enjolras pulls a face, “I think what he’s doing is interesting, it’s certainly more than the police are these days. I understand there are some risks in vigilante action, but I think at least in this case he’s bringing some real positive change. Plus, the suit is cool.”

Courfeyrac can’t help but grin at that and he doesn’t stop even when the conversation has moved on. He lies on the sofa awake until the middle of the night just smiling, there’s a warm feeling in his chest that just doesn’t go away when he thinks about Enjolras defending him. Ah he recognises the feeling with a sinking heart, he falls in love easily, way too easily.

He rubs a hand over his eyes, tired. He shouldn’t, not when him and Enjolras are only just becoming close friends, he’s just stressed and tired and horny and he needs someone to get his energy out with. He sighs, frustrated. He doesn’t need something else to add to the long list of problems he has. He’ll sleep with someone, a stranger, someone he won’t ever see again, and he’ll feel better. He doesn’t have a crush on Enjolras, he decides, no definitely not.

* * *

The rest of the week is going well, it stops raining and his landlord promises that he’ll pay for the water damages in Courfeyrac’s flat and the police don’t even come close to catching him even once. Also, the mayor seems to have taken a liking to him and everyone knows he has some sort of weird rivalry with the Prefect of the Police, Javert. He hums some song that’s stuck in his head as he unlocks the door to Combeferre and Enjolras’ flat.

“You’re back early,” he says when he toes off his shoes and Enjolras is sitting cross legged on the sofa frowning down at one of their law textbooks. It’s already seven, but usually both Enjolras and Combeferre don’t get back until eight on Thursdays.

“You’re back late, I thought your lectures ended at four today?” Enjolras replies, not looking up from his reading, “you’re always disappearing in the afternoons, I thought you’d be loving that your schedule left your evenings free, but no one can ever seem to find you these days.”

It’s just off-hand conversation, Enjolras doesn’t even seem to be paying attention, brow creasing as he scribbles something else down, but it’s enough for Courfeyrac to freeze. He doesn’t have a good excuse, it was easy when he was living alone, but he supposes that it’s weird that he keeps on just vanishing for hours every day.

“I was um – you know, around, nothing big, you know,” he says and the shifty tone to his voice is enough for Enjolras to lift his head and frown at him, confused.

“I don’t, but alright,” he replies, curious enough to raise an eyebrow.

Courfeyrac walks into the kitchenette, pouring himself a glass of water just like he always does, always casual, very casual, “no, it’s fine I was just,” his eyes skirt across the table and he catches sight of the pile of newspapers the three of them tend to accumulate, “Les Parisien – it uh it has a competition running – best photo of Spiderman wins a prize.”

“Really, Courfeyrac?” Enjolras laughs, shaking his head and looking back down at his textbook again, “you’re out chasing Spiderman all afternoon? For what, a couple hundred euros from that rag?”

“Hey, don’t knock my photo before you’ve even seen it,” he grins, at ease once more. He bounces over to the sofa and peers over Enjolras’ shoulder, making a face at what he’s reading. He needs to do it at some point, but he doesn’t really want to. Enjolras just scoots over to the side so Courfeyrac has room to sit.

He can’t resist hooking his chin over Enjolras’ shoulder to read better and it’s warm and comfortable pressed against him like that. It’s been a long day and being Spiderman is tiring after all, he’ll just rest his eyes for a moment, but when he blinks himself awake again his head is cradled in Enjolras’ lap. There are soft hands scratching their way through his hair and he’s talking softly.

It’s his normal fiery rhetoric, but this time his voice is purposefully lowered, and it makes something warm bloom up in Courfeyrac’s chest. He crushes it down and instead tries to listen to what they’re saying. He makes out something about decolonising education and faintly thinks that one of them must have been talking to someone in the History department again.

“But, how can we even begin to say we’re trying to decolonise academia when France hasn’t even started to even recognise our own colonialism? What use is it to start introducing post-colonial thought in university when we’ve already spent a lifetime internalising a colonial world view?” Enjolras says and his hands tighten slightly in Courfeyrac’s hair when he’s trying to emphasise his words.

“Wouldn’t decolonisation of universities start with reparations anyways?” Courfeyrac murmurs sleepily and Enjolras jumps just a little when he speaks. He smiles up at him and when Enjolras runs a hand through his hair again he almost purrs with happiness.

“Until then though trying to introduce more post-colonial thought into our reading lists wouldn’t hurt,” Combeferre says as they walk to the table balancing three plates of food, “or even any acknowledgement of racism at all. God if you think it’s bad in law, try medicine,” they shake their head with a sigh.

Courfeyrac rolls his way off the sofa, re-emerging with his hair sticking up wildly, “there’s nothing we can really do about the textbooks, but I’m hoping that Professor Moreau will be more sympathetic. She’s always putting Marxist and Feminist writers in our reading lists, would it really kill her to take one more step? Jehan keeps on telling me that the Humanities school has started, Law is lagging behind as usual, but of course STEM is running a whole different race to us.”

Combeferre rolls their eyes in agreement as the three of them start digging into the takeaway. It’s cheap and not too bad, still the company makes it worth it. He grins as he eats and when Enjolras sends him a confused look he just gives him a cheerful shrug.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac almost gets busted and Jehan tries desperately to talk some sense into him (spoiler alert: it doesn't work).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo I am...... currently being dragged through the mud by uni and my mental health so..... that's why my upload schedule is all over the place. also I'm abt 90% sure I'm going to completely rewrite what I've got for the last chapter so if I post something very short and fillerish in-between now and then...... well u know why...... hopefully I get some more time and motivation to write but haha if not this series may be a little dormant for the next few weeks sorry abt that!

He shouldn’t come back here, he really shouldn’t. Enjolras is a smart guy, an observant one too and it’ll only take one slip up for him to realise that Courfeyrac is in fact Spiderman, but he’s in the neighbourhood and he sees Enjolras sitting on the roof reading and he can’t help himself. He jumps onto the roof, doing a neat little roll that is absolutely not to show off.

“You’re back,” Enjolras says, putting his book down, but Courfeyrac recognises the cover and his can’t help but grin at the fact that Enjolras sits on the roof smoking and reading trashy novels.

“I am! Did you miss me?” he asks, cheeky. He’s in a good mood today, there aren’t any assignments due soon and he finished this week’s reading in just one extremely productive library session. The sun is out as well and oh Paris really is beautiful in the springtime. He sits on the edge of the roof, legs swinging off over the street below.

“Only a little bit. Do anything interesting today, Spiderman?” Enjolras asks.

“Well I took some photos for a tourist, helped get this cat which was stuck in a tree, caught someone’s hat that blew away in the wind,” he says, listing things off his fingers, “also I stopped a bike thief that turned out to be some guy whose lock broke.”

“The hard work of a superhero, Paris can’t thank you enough,” Enjolras teases and Courfeyrac tilts his head back to laugh.

“What about you? Good book?” he laughs again when Enjolras flushes.

“A friend recommended it to me a while ago, but apart from that, nothing much. It’s been quiet really,” he shrugs, thumbing through the book absentmindedly, almost fondly and Courfeyrac remembers all of a sudden that he’d been going on and on about it two months ago. He grins, he’ll have to ‘accidentally’ sneak Enjolras a few more recommendations.

“Quiet is better than trouble,” Courfeyrac singsongs, “you should be glad you’re not living in somewhere like New York, there’s some big bad tearing up that city every other week.”

“You’d keep us safe though, wouldn’t you?” Enjolras asks, just a hint of a smile on his lips.

All of a sudden Courfeyrac wonders if this is how Enjolras would flirt and his brain stutters to a halt at the thought of Enjolras smiling up at him through his eyelashes. “Of course,” he blusters, trying desperately to reboot his brain, “I just – I gotta go I can hear um, sirens. Yeah, something happening you know, gotta go check it out.”

“I can’t hear anything?” Enjolras frowns but Courfeyrac says somethings about ‘spider hearing’ and then he’s already waving goodbye and jumping off the roof. He’s not running away alright, he’s just making a small tactical retreat. Okay so maybe he is running away, but he shouldn’t even have been here anyways, so it makes up for it? Kind of?

He stops on a rooftop a few streets away and looks back, guilty, at where Enjolras is still sat, almost hunched up around his book. It might put him in danger, he thinks, but there’s something easy about the way Enjolras smiles at him when he’s Spiderman that he doesn’t see with the mask off and it makes him want to carry on doing this.

* * *

He’s gone back to his theory that he has a crush on Enjolras because he’s horny and repressed after becoming Spiderman. It’s fine, he’s texting one of his favourite bootycalls right now and they’ll meet tonight and he’ll feel better by the morning. He hums, easily dodging around the rest of the people on the street

“Courfeyrac!” someone shouts and he spins around to see Jehan skipping across the road towards him. He’s not gonna lie it takes him more than a moment to take in whatever the hell he’s wearing. He’s not sure if it’s a coat or a skirt or some kind of jumpsuit? But what he does know is that it’s distressingly tartan, has a confusing number of straps and Jehan is wearing matching tartan beret. Overall, Courfeyrac is not sure whether to impressed, disgusted or in generally awe.

“What’s up, Jehan?” he grins, letting himself be whirled around the street, everyone else having to scatter out of the way.

“Did you see who won that Le Parisien photo competition?” he asks, rummaging around his pockets before he finally pulls out his phone, “look doesn’t that person look familiar?”

Courfeyrac squints at the phone, shaking in Jehan’s hand before his blood runs cold and his mouth falls open. It’s a photo of him as Spiderman with his mask pulled up halfway with a cigarette in his hand, Enjolras lighting it for him. It was the second time they’d talked, a few months ago now. Someone must have seen them from the balconies on the other side of the street. He thinks faintly that he really should not have gone back.

“That’s Enjolras,” he mumbles, not quite sure what to say, “he’s smoking.”

“Yeah and he’s with _Spiderman_!” Jehan shouts, “come on, I bet he’s already at the Musain. We’ve got to ask him about it.”

It turns out they’re too late, there’s a group of people outside the Musain and Courfeyrac catches a glimpse of Enjolras in the crowd, looking like he’s moments away from bolting or maybe killing someone. He sends Courfeyrac a desperate look when he sees him, mouthing ‘help’.

“Alright, alright,” Courfeyrac shouts, sliding through the crowd and throwing an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders to put some room between him and everyone else, “Enjolras is the new hot topic, but let’s give the man a little bit of room.”

“Aw come on, he’s friends with Spiderman, he’s gotta have some hot gossip,” someone that Courfeyrac vaguely recognises from one of their classes complains.

“I already told you he just comes by sometimes when I’m on the roof,” Enjolras snaps, frustrated, “I haven’t seen his face, I don’t know his name, we just happened to talk a few times that’s all.”

“You heard the man, he doesn’t know anything. Now if you excuse us, we’re going to get some dinner,” he shouts, Jehan squirms onto Enjolras’ other side so they form a protective little sandwich and they start walking into the Musain with an air of finality. Feuilly raises an eyebrow at their weird little formation, but Courfeyrac just shakes his head and nods towards the backroom.

It’s really just an unused room with a few tables and chairs, the cafe rents it out on occasion for birthdays and anniversaries and things, but normally it just stays vacant and empty. Feuilly had suggested they all start meeting in there instead when they started getting into conversations that were a little too heated to be had in the main room of the café.

Alright so maybe they were talking about something to do with capitalism and somehow Courfeyrac, egged on by Bahorel and a whole bottle of Chardonnay, had ended up on the table, shouting about the labour market is designed to create wage inequality and that capitalism necessitates poverty. He remembers the night fondly and to be fair it meant they now met in the backroom, so a good time overall.

“You’re late,” Combeferre remarks when the three of them stride in, mostly addressed to Enjolras since the Courfeyrac and Jehan tend to play fast and loose with the concept of ‘being on time’.

“Something happened,” Enjolras says tiredly, running a hand through his hair as he sits down. Combeferre just raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘well that’s obvious’, but before Courfeyrac can explain the door bursts open and Joly and Bossuet come tumbling in.

“You’re friends with Spiderman,” Bossuet says, excited and Joly bounces behind him, “come on Enjolras, you’ve got to tell us something.”

“There’s nothing to tell, I was on the roof and he appeared, and he asked for a cigarette,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal and to Courfeyrac it looks like he’s telling the truth. Of course, of all the people in the world who wouldn’t care it would be Enjolras, he smiles to himself.

“What’s he like though,” Joly asks, almost vibrating with curiosity, “is he funny? Or nice? What does he do in his free time? What’s his suit made of? Is he like a spider underneath his suit? Does he have those cool spider hairs, you know what I’m talking about?”

“He’s nice,” Enjolras says slowly, hesitantly, “he seems very charming, kinda funny, I guess. I’ve never seen him without his mask and I don’t know about the uh – the hairs.”

“You smoke though?” Jehan squeaks and Enjolras blushes, actually blushes.

“Just when I’m stressed,” he says very determinedly not looking at Combeferre who is glaring a hole into the back of his head, “which is _not_ that often.”

“Whatever, everyone has a cigarette when they’re stressed,” Courfeyrac says and Combeferre rolls his eyes, exasperated. Joly very dutifully starts prattling off all the harmful side effects it has and Courfeyrac obligingly gets into a jokey argument with him about it, because 'really Jolllly we’ve all seen you have a cigarette or two on a night out'.

It’s dramatic and funny enough that people get distracted, especially when Courfeyrac pretends to fold and promises to try give up smoking at least for the sake of his own vanity. The tension in Enjolras’ shoulders slowly bleed out and by the end of the night he has that small smile on the corner of his lips again. Courfeyrac hums to himself, satisfied.

Still, he makes sure he sticks as close to Enjolras as possible over the next week or two, just to make sure that no one really annoys him, and he doesn’t do anything stupid like finally snap and punch someone. It’s just him being a good friend, not an excuse for him to drape an arm over his shoulders and drag him around or see that grateful smile Enjolras always gives him when he succeeds in distracting everyone yet again.

“I thought you’d be more interested,” Jehan says offhand at one point when they’re both lounging around in a park, enjoying the early summer sunshine, “you love gossip, don’t pretend you don’t. Having your friend be friends with the local superhero, I thought you’d be over the moon.”

Courfeyrac hums in response, ripping out the grass absentmindedly. He glances over at where Jehan is sprawled across the ground, today he’s wearing a bright blue suit, each piece of the outfit just a slightly different shade with a huge flowy silk scarf carefully knotted around his neck.

“He just doesn’t really seem to want to talk about it. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable,” he shrugs, sprinkling the shredded grass back onto the ground,

Jehan sits up all of a sudden and gives him a silent piercing stare that makes Courfeyrac squirm in place. “You really care about him a lot,” he says, after a while, “you understand him more than other people do, apart from maybe Combeferre.”

“Yeah, we’re good friends,” he says, trying his best to be casual but Jehan hasn’t stopped staring at him like that.

“He likes you more than anyone else as well, you’re the only person who he lets manhandle him like that. I think he’d bite my hand off if I put my arm around him like you always do, or if anyone tried to fix his hair. You’re the only one who greets him with bisous as well,” he continues like Courfeyrac hadn’t said anything at all.

“I greet everyone with bisous, I don’t see why it should be any different for him,” he argues defensively and it’s technically true.

“Yes, but the important thing is that you’re the only one _he_ kisses,” Jehan says and something about the way he phrases it makes Courfeyrac shift again. He is a grown man who has had sex with multiple other men, he’s a goddamn superhero for Christ’s sake, but thinking about Enjolras _kissing_ anyone makes him squirm.

“Look just drop it alright, it’s just a crush, I’ll get over it,” he says a little harsher than he means to and Jehan just rolls his eyes.

“Okay I’ll ‘drop it’, but all I’m saying is that if it’s you he’ll say yes,” he huffs, crossing his arms and flopping back over onto the ground.

Courfeyrac just sighs, he knows that on some kind of unconscious level if he actually tried to ask Enjolras out he’d probably say yes just to be kind. He’s selfless like that, always giving, giving, giving, even though no one thinks Enjolras is like that he just is. Courfeyrac doesn’t want to be selfish though, doesn't want to ask too much of someone like Enjolras, . He digs a cigarette out of his bag, one that’s battered and bent from sitting in a random pocket for so long.

“I thought you were quitting?” Jehan asks absentmindedly, staring at the clouds.

“I thought so too,” Courfeyrac says, inhaling the smoke into his lungs. He really did make good on his promise to Joly, even if it had been a joke. It’s been two weeks without one, a record really. He’s been smoking since he was sixteen, since he thought that if he did all the things that the white boys do, they might stop kicking him around. It never worked and now two years later he still can’t stop. Ah, he’s never been good at giving up bad habits, he thinks as he inhales, grinning when Jehan points out a cloud that looks rather like a dick.

* * *

Courfeyrac manages to stay away for a month, a whole month, but it seems like he just can’t keep himself away. He swings by a couple of times that week, but Enjolras isn’t there. It’s a little weird to sit there alone, but he does need to take breaks on his patrols and his rooftop has a good view over the neighbourhood, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He hears the sound of someone else climbing up and he tilts his head back, grinning through the mask as Enjolras appears on the roof, a surprised smile on his face when he sees Courfeyrac.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, I didn’t think you’d come back,” he says as he settles into his usual spot.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Courfeyrac admits, tugging at the tips of his gloves absentmindedly, “was probably a pain in the ass to have your photo splashed all over the papers.”

“People get bored easily. I have good friends, they helped a lot,” Enjolras shrugs, “but if you shouldn’t be here, why are you?”

Courfeyrac laughs, “no one knows I’m Spiderman, I can’t really talk about it to anyone. It’s nice to be able to just – I don’t know, complain about it once in a while. It gets lonely, just a little bit,” he shrugs, looking out across Paris.

“Yeah, I get that,” Enjolras smiles, small and careful, “you know you really remind me of a friend.”

“Oh really?” Courfeyrac turns to look at him, heart racing.

“You just care about the small things,” Enjolras says, shrugging, “about people, about things that aren’t just structures and systems.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac smiles, takes a big long breath in and out, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Enjolras replies with a wry smile, like he knows something that Courfeyrac doesn’t and it’s enough to set him on edge, just a little bit. Enjolras doesn’t offer him a cigarette, Courfeyrac doesn’t ask. They sit for a little while longer, just idle chatter until it starts to rain again and Enjolras has to duck inside, waving goodbye. Courfeyrac doesn’t quite know what to think anymore as he swings away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is very short but is (hopefully) leading up to the big finale!! I've finished w uni for this year and I'm just happy to finally have some free time to spend w my family and to do some other hobbies so there's probably not going to be another update for this before the new year. meanwhile I'm already brewing up my next big courfjolras project that may or may not ever get written bc I have no self control but on the plus side I've revived my twitter! come say hi to me [@lesbiancourf](https://twitter.com/lesbiancourf) I promise I don't bite!

Courfeyrac manages to stay away for a month, a whole month, but it seems like he just can’t keep himself away. He swings by a couple of times that week, but Enjolras isn’t there. It’s a little weird to sit there alone, but he does need to take breaks on his patrols and his rooftop has a good view over the neighbourhood, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He hears the sound of someone else climbing up and he tilts his head back, grinning through the mask as Enjolras appears on the roof, a surprised smile on his face when he sees Courfeyrac.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, I didn’t think you’d come back,” he says as he settles into his usual spot.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Courfeyrac admits, tugging at the tips of his gloves absentmindedly, “was probably a pain in the ass to have your photo splashed all over the papers.”

“People get bored easily. I have good friends, they helped a lot,” Enjolras shrugs, “but if you shouldn’t be here, why are you?”

Courfeyrac laughs, “no one knows I’m Spiderman, I can’t really talk about it to anyone. It’s nice to be able to just – I don’t know, complain about it once in a while. It gets lonely, just a little bit,” he shrugs, looking out across Paris.

“Yeah, I get that,” Enjolras smiles, small and careful, “you know you really remind me of a friend.”

“Oh really?” Courfeyrac turns to look at him, heart racing.

“You just care about the small things,” Enjolras says, shrugging, “about people, about things that aren’t just structures and systems.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac smiles, takes a big long breath in and out, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Enjolras replies with a wry smile, like he knows something that Courfeyrac doesn’t and it’s enough to set him on edge, just a little bit. Enjolras doesn’t offer him a cigarette, Courfeyrac doesn’t ask. They sit for a little while longer, just idle chatter until it starts to rain again and Enjolras has to duck inside, waving goodbye. Courfeyrac doesn’t quite know what to think anymore as he swings away.

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoyed pls leave a comment and a kudo! it would mean the world to me!! also yes this is reposted bc I didn't realise using the draft function means that it shows up from when u created the draft not when it's actually published so basically no one saw it.... you'd think that after like 6 years of using this damn website I'd know that but ha.....


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